


As I Loved You Then

by poisontaster



Series: No Office Romance [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Schmoop, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron comes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I Loved You Then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wrenlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrenlet/gifts).



"Hotch." He squeaks over the name, an adolescent voice-break that didn't pass with his actual adolescence. "Aaron," he corrects, verbally recovering, even if he still feels stunned stupid by Aaron's appearance on his doorstep. "What are you doing here?"

Aaron's expression doesn't change much, just a slight flattening of the faint smile curling his lips, but it's enough to give Spencer a sharp slap and make him realize a) he's being rude and b) how close he is to fucking this—whatever this is—up.

Spencer shakes his head and takes a step back from the door. "Never mind," he says, gesturing at the gift wrapped oblong held loosely in Aaron's hand. "Dumb question. Come in."

The last bit is nearly a question; he doesn't really expect that Aaron will cross the threshold. He expects a warm, but regretful apology, excuses of no time, of Jack waiting. It's their pattern, sex and avoidance, making it all the more surprising when Aaron murmurs thanks and crowds into the doorway. Spencer falls back again, more confused than ever, but game.

"So I guess you're my Secret Santa," Spencer says as he locks up behind them, thumbing the deadbolts closed and glancing over his shoulder. Aaron hasn't sat down, prowling around Spencer's small living room like this is an interrogation, rather than a friendly visit. Spencer tucks his hands in his pockets and rounds his shoulders down, a posture he knows makes him look smaller, inoffensive. "You could've just given it to me at the office."

Spencer leans against the plaster arch between postage-stamp foyer and the living room, faking a nonchalance he doesn't feel. The last time Aaron had come over, they'd had sex right here, violent and messy, first in the foyer and then on the couch. Spencer can't forget that, hasn't been able to forget it in the month between then and now. It's even more present on the surface of his skin with Aaron here again, a heat like standing in front of a fire.

"You ran out pretty fast," Aaron observes. It looks like he's examining the stack of books on the end table, but Spencer sees the sidelong gleam of a glance. "I wasn't sure you'd even be home." Aaron lifts his head, the faint smile becoming more pronounced, more _there_. "I like the apron."

"Oh." Spencer looks down, then reaches behind his back and tugs at the ties in self-consciousness. "I was…I was making…oh, _shit_!" He dashes for the kitchen, his leg twinging as his socks slide on the waxed hardwood.

The clammy smell of scorched milk fills the kitchen. Spencer grabs the pan's handle to move it off the burner but, of course, it's _hot_ , and he ends up scorching himself in the process, too.

He always forgets how fast Aaron moves. He looms behind Spencer before Spencer can gear himself up to it, fingers closing tight around the wrist of Spencer's burned hand. Spencer is a horrible dancer, fumble-footed and uncertain, but the way Aaron turns and moves him toward the sink, pushing his hand under the tap is a lot like what he imagines it must be like, graceful and unthinking.

"I was making hot chocolate," Spencer explains as Aaron nudges on the tap. At first, the cold water is a shock; a moment later, his palm starts to sting and then throb. He burned himself worse than he thought.

"I could make a bad joke about crying over spilt milk, if it helps." Spencer can't turn his neck far enough to see Aaron's face, they're so close together, but he thinks Aaron's smiling.

"I think you already did." Spencer turns around but Aaron doesn't fall back, leaving them still too close together and him hemmed in on either side by Aaron's arms. Spencer finds himself leaning back, over the sink. "I can make more." He sidles sideways a little. "Would you like some?"

"Why don't you let me?" Aaron pulls back, just like that. Easy, casual. "Put some ice on that hand."

Which is how Spencer finds himself ensconced on the counter with an ice pack wrapped in a towel and Aaron going through his cabinets. And it's how he finds himself on the couch, fifteen minutes later, with a mug of the best, most decadent cup of hot chocolate he's ever had.

"So…what are you doing here?" Spencer asks finally, when he can't take the suspense anymore—can't take Aaron sitting at the other end of the couch drinking cocoa like they do this all the time.

Aaron pauses, cup halfway to his mouth. "I don't know," he admits, after a long pause. "The gift…" He gestures toward the wrapped oblong precariously balanced on the mess on the coffee table. "I didn't want to give it to you at the office, but it was just an excuse. A pretext."

"A pretext for what?"

Aaron isn't generous with his smiles. When his expression blooms into one of the rare, bright, full ones, it's like a gift all its own. "To come here. To see you."

It all feels like a puzzle that he has most of the pieces to, but not the one that would make sense of all the rest. It's there, on the edge of his mind, on the tips of his fingers, but when he tries to move it into place, it slips away from him. "Aaron… What are we doing?"

Aaron uses his mug's bottom edge to nudge aside the papers and books to make a place for it on the table, making it seem like just that takes all his attention. When he leans back, the smile is gone and he just looks tired. Exhausted. "I don't have an answer to that question," Aaron says slowly. "I don't… I don't know the answer to that. I keep pushing you away but I'm the one who can't stay gone." Aaron turns his head, pins Spencer with the expression in his eyes.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something and comes up with…nothing. Or, not nothing so much as too many somethings, all of them jammed up in a tangle he hasn't the slightest idea how to undo. Or how to make into anything so simple as words.

The lines around Aaron's eyes cut deeper, as if in pain. "Spencer?"

"So…" Spencer presses himself deeper in the couch's cushions, braced by their support. "Who says you need to stay gone?"

It scares him to say it. It scares him how easily he means it, after everything that happened with them. After how hard it's been to rebuild his life—himself—in the wake of it. And now he's opening the door to it—to Aaron—again. The way he always does.

What scares him most is what a relief it is. To have this possibility. To have Aaron Hotchner on the other end of his couch, drinking hot chocolate. With him.

"Merry Christmas, Spencer." Aaron's smiling again. He nods at the table. "Open your present."


End file.
